


Heart Full of Larceny

by SFDoll



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Crime & Romance, F/M, Fix-It, Partners in Crime, Peyton Has a Wild Side, Protective Blaine, picking up the dropped plots, saying fuck you to canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 21:48:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17332952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SFDoll/pseuds/SFDoll
Summary: Peyton needs to find a way to get brains for Renegade's new zombies, before she ends up with another dead, starving zombie on her conscience.  We all know who feeds Seattle's zombies.





	Heart Full of Larceny

"If the brain shortage is really that bad, we've got to find another food source for our new zombies... especially now that we have the money to really help more people," Liv sighed. She slammed the carton of milk harder than intended on the kitchen counter.

Peyton grimaced half in sympathy and half from the thought of how close they had just come to having to clean up a flood of dairy from the floor and countertop. "Weren't you able to turn up any other viable leads for brain sources?"

The early morning light slanted into the kitchen and cast a warm haze over everything as if the two women bustling about making breakfast had been caught in an old snapshot. It created the illusion of being suspended in a more peaceful time, in a world before the emergence of zombies. From the looks alone one would never guess the content of the discussion taking place.

"Only the absolute last resort," Liv groaned, and Peyton leaned across the counter with an interested expression. "Levon and I checked out this zombie church downtown. The minister told us all about how they receive a free weekly meal at Romero's."

Peyton's brows lifted in surprise, and she shot Liv a look of extreme disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me!" Peyton responded. She took a moment to ruminate on the new information while peeling a small orange and pulling it apart to place sections on each of their plates. "If Blaine is giving out charity to hungry zombies, I might be able to get him to help us," she mused.

Liv shook her head. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that particular bad idea. Besides it turns out the minister is Blaine's proud father, who is all too excited to find Blaine a suitable zombie girlfriend," Liv continued, and Peyton's expression became positively alarmed.

"Did you just describe Angus as a proud father?"

Liv nodded as she took a swig of coffee, and her brows drew together with questions. "Couldn't stop bragging about how smart, talented, and successful his son is. You know Blaine's father?"

"We've met... once... at a meeting about his will when he turned up alive after the Chaos Killer incident. The two of them hated each other, Liv. He told a story about how he'd loathed Blaine since Blaine was a kid. It just can't be the same guy. What did he look like?" Peyton asked, her tone serious and her eyes brooding.

"Tall, slender, scary... rocking the old school zombie look..."

Peyton frowned, her forehead unusually creased by the depth of her distress as she grabbed her tablet and whipped through pages in her browser. She settled upon the photo of an imperious and well-dressed businessman being profiled in some article about titans of business real estate cleaning up through the current wave of gentrification.

Liv took a moment to parse the differences between the picture of Angus McDonough and the way he'd looked when she'd meet him as Brother Love. She nodded. "He's apparently changed his style since finding creepy, zombie God, but that's him! The stuff I read from his service was sick and twisted, Peyton. That's another great reason to stay away from this," Liv advised.

Peyton already was wearing the look she got when she wasn't going to let something go. "Yeah.... You're right. We need to stay away from this," she agreed too easily. Her viridian eyes drifted, following a thought that Liv couldn't see but which worried the petite medical examiner all the same.

Liv cringed watching Peyton stride out of the kitchen, her untouched breakfast forgotten behind her.

Blaine had just finished a phone call with one of his smuggling connections about a case of brains coming in from Canada when hurricane Peyton made land in his office at The Scratching Post. She'd come during the afternoon lull, hoping to catch him at a time when he couldn't easily feign twenty reasons to slither out of a confrontation with her.

"We need to talk," Peyton declared as she dropped her bag on the file covered table inside the unfinished door to Blaine's office and entered with her heels drumming a hard stilletto percussion like a fanfare that preceded her. Her features fixed themselves into one of the impervious masks she used when negotiating with criminals. She noticed that files and paperwork still covered most surfaces of Blaine's office, even overflowing and exploding out of his little closet alcove. He must have been burning one of the scented candles he kept near his desk recently, because the sweet scent of pomegranate hung thick in the air of his underworld lair.

At the sound of her voice Blaine's head snapped upwards in surprise, his shoulders pulling back and his spine going rigid. His eyes grew huge, and he froze in place still as a gargoyle. Peyton's eyes narrowed as she waited with an impatient drumming of her fingers against his desk for Blaine to snap out of it.

After a few seconds Blaine took a deep breath, his mind slinging back to the present, and his eyes focused on Peyton standing before him in her fitted shell blouse and charcoal skirt and trying to look authoritative. The remaining color drained from his already pale skin, and he goggled at her. Then he dropped the most sincere f-bomb of his life.

Peyton started as Blaine sprang to his feet. "Did anyone see you come in here? Was Don E. at the bar? Tell me he didn't see you!" He demanded in a panicked whisper as he reached for her arm. His wild eyes stared into her, and Peyton could have sworn he looked heartbroken. "What the hell were you thinking!?"

"I don't know what's wrong with you, but I need to talk to you about--"

"Mr. Boss is in town looking for his money," Blaine hissed in warning. "Let's skip the part where you pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I have to get you out of here before Don E. spots you."

Peyton's jaw dropped. "Wait! Are you working with Stacey Boss?" she asked, her voice struggling to contain the snarl of emotions rising in her chest like a like a destructive vortex, sucking in her searing anger and the shards of betrayal that she felt and preparing to hurl them back at him like deadly projectiles fueled by the fury of the storm.

Blaine flinched. They didn't have time to argue. "After I took the blade out of my throat we reached a compromise that involved him smuggling brains to me for money and staying the hell out of Seattle, at least generally. For right now, let's just concentrate on keeping you safely off his radar."

They could hear the sounds of shuffling behind the bar, and Blaine scrunched up his face in frustration and dismay. Peyton bit her lips together, and she knocked her right fist rhythmically against her outer thigh. Blaine gave her a tap on the shoulder with his fingers to signal for her to hang back, then he stepped through the doorway, leaving Peyton to worry for the first time about the consequences of her rash plan to repurpose Mr. Boss's criminal haul towards a greater good.

She'd figured that Boss was far away in Montenegro and that since D-day and the rise of the wall Boss would have even less desire to return to his old stomping grounds. She'd never considered that Boss could still have business in New Seattle--let alone business with Blaine, who once again held her life in his hands. She and Blaine seemed to be locked into a cycle of love and betrayal. When she was ready to open her heart to Blaine, she'd discover the lies he'd kept between them. When she believed there was nothing that he said or did that she could trust, he'd risk everything to protect her. She prayed that this wasn't the moment when that strained bond still connecting them broke.

"Yo! Don E.! Did we get any more of that Devil's Puckered Knothole in the new shipment?" Blaine hailed in a jovial voice. The clink of bottles being stocked and glasses prepped for tonight stopped.

"Please tell me that if you're planning to drink away some of our most exclusive booze it means you've found what we're looking for!" exclaimed Don E.'s distinctive nasal voice. Peyton held her breath. Blaine could have betrayed her as soon as he'd had his vision, but he hadn't. Still, a part of her worried that Blaine would realize how much more he stood to gain by turning her over and choose the profitable course. She clutched her bag to her chest, as she waited for Blaine to answer.

"No such luck, Amigo," Blaine replied, and Peyton relaxed. "Feel like I could use a drink, and I'm not in the mood for cheap swill today."

Don growled. "Yeah, yeah. We've got one bottle in back. Seems like a waste to drink it now, man."

"Get it. No point in raking it in if you never spend anything on the good stuff," Blaine replied, and she heard Don E. head to the stockroom with a belabored sigh. Blaine materialized beside her, and with one hand on her back he rushed her to the front door keeping his body between her and the bar to block her from view if Don E. returned unexpectedly.

He released her once they reached the mouth of the alley where a few steps would bring her safely onto the main street. "I don't suppose there's any chance you could give me the money to return to Boss with some bullshit cover story about how I retrieved it?" Blaine asked in a hollow voice, already knowing the answer but obliged to ask anyhow.

Sure enough, Peyton shook her head, and Blaine sagged against the stone slab wall. "I gave it to a good cause, trying to help humans and zombies. Even if I could get it back, I wouldn't let you give it back to Mr. Boss," she spat.

"It's not about helping Stacey. I don't give a flying fig about that! I'm trying to find ways to cover for you. How much was in the bag?" Blaine's jaw set in determination, his lips a thin line and his eyes as hard and bright as blue topaz glittering in the afternoon light.

Peyton stared back at him. Here he was offering to help her with this new disaster, but she had never had a chance to address the reasons she had come to see him. _He hasn't even asked why I took it_ , she thought. She wasn't sure why it mattered to her even, but it did. "A million. I didn't know that Mr. Boss would find out about the money, and I never imagined that he would sneak back into the city now for it. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I gave the money to Renegade and the coyotes to help smuggle humans into New Seattle and turn them into zombies."

Blaine blinked several times, apparently rendered speechless by her revelation. "Renegade's dead," he finally managed by way of protest.

"Renegade's an idea, not an individual. There's someone new under the mantle."

"So you decided it was a good idea to start making zombies during a brain shortage?"

Peyton winced. "That's what I came to talk to you about," Peyton explained. "We need a way to feed new zombies. I heard that you've patched things up with your dad, who apparently adores you now, and you've been giving his congregation a free weekly meal. I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around that."

Blaine gave a harrumph. "Which part seems to be tripping you up? Me giving giving out free meals? Dad's sudden paternal interest in me? Or the idea that an army of mindless idiots thinks my father has a direct line to God?"

"All of it," she answered sincerely. She decided to do a little fishing. "I didn't get the impression things between you and your father were fixable."

"They're not," Blaine said without the slightest hesitation, and Peyton gave him a questioning look. "My father may have lost his mind, but he's still an abusive bastard who is blackmailing me into participating in his demented idea for a family dinner so he can use me to get what he wants." Blaine swallowed and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at her with sullen reservation. "Is this the part where you blackmail me to get what you want too?"

Peyton had come to his office prepared to do exactly that. She'd figured that any diabolical collaboration she was about to uncover between Blaine and his father would warrant her actions. Once again her expectation had been turned on its head. "No. I'm asking--even if all you can give me is advice. I just don't know where else to turn. You remember the city bus crash? The zombie driver who was shot for going full zombie and trying to eat a survivor?"  
  
Blaine bit his lip, and his head bobbed up and down. "Hard headline to miss," he said. He was still leaning against the wall of the building behind him with his arms crossed and looking distrustful.

"Days before the crash they tried to fire him for being a surly zombie. It struck me as potential discrimination, so I talked to him. I found out that he was starving. The Filmore-Graves rations didn't go far enough, so he was giving his children his share," Peyton explained. Hot prickling stung her eyes. "I promised to see that he and his family received increased rations."

Blaine could see the tears about to overflow from her brimming eyes. He bit back the urge to tell her this was why it didn't pay to get involved in other people's problems. Deep down he knew this was more than just some outside problem that he could completely ignore. His sources had been warning him about food supply leaks and shortages even before Angus's followers had come digging though his trash bins for scraps. If this city turned into a warzone between humans and zombies there went Blaine's profitable businesses--not to mention his cushy lifestyle.

"I failed him, and his family, and the people on that bus," Peyton told him. Her voice quavered, and Blaine couldn't help but remember the last time Peyton had felt that she'd failed at her job. She had tried to throw away her career after she'd discovered that the C.I. she'd just slept with, namely himself, was a former killer zombie. Blaine had secretly stepped in to block her then, and his mind was already filling in the blanks on how her clearly overdeveloped sense of guilt had lead her to feel she needed to steal from a dangerous crime lord to help zombies after this experience.

"The people Li--Renegade turns need our help, but I don't want to create any more starving zombies in the process," she sighed. If Blaine noticed her verbal slip--and he probably did--he let it pass without comment.

Blaine wanted to pull Peyton into his arms and comfort her. He longed to promise her anything he could do to help. He fought to keep the urge out of his face, but for all he knew Peyton was counting on his feelings for her to get what she wanted from him. He never could resist her. They both knew it. "I'll see what I can do, but if it means having to get more brains from Mr. Boss are you prepared to do that?" he asked.

With wide eyes torn between two horrors Peyton stared back at him. With one choice she might be creating the next incident where a starving zombie went on a rampage. Innocent people could die, and what if that incident turned out to be the one that broke the fragile society they'd been trying to forge between humans and zombies? With the other choice she was putting money back in the pocket of the worst monster she knew. Mr. Boss had tried to kill her and Blaine both, and who knew how many people he might be killing still. "Please tell me there's another choice," she begged.

"If there's a world that gives us perfect choices, I've never found it," Blaine warned. "Like I said, I'll see what I can do. Liv doesn't have any contacts outside the city with access to brains, does she?" he asked, and Peyton knew he'd definitely caught her slip earlier, if he hadn't figured it out even before then.

"The coyotes already have their hands full with sneaking in the few people they can help," she began.

"If someone can supply the brains, I can get them in with my other shipments," Blaine cut in. "Little pitstop somewhere along the route, and who cares if a few more brains fall into the truck... We can fix up the paperwork, and we can arrange some way to distribute them once they arrive. It's an option at least. I'm assuming you want to keep costs down."

"Yeah. I'll see if she has any contacts who could supply brains, but I don't know how much transport they could swing even if she does. We can try to align routes," Peyton suggested. She peered towards the busy street, knowing their conversation couldn't last much longer lest Don E. come looking for Blaine. She needed to leave soon.

"Call me on my cell after you talk to her," Blaine instructed. "I can give you the number again, since you probably deleted it." He glanced over his shoulder towards the bar, feeling the pull of time working against them too. "You need to stay away from The Scratching Post and Romero's for the next few days," he warned. "I'll get him out of town as soon as possible and dispose of the rest of that damn brain."

Peyton dutifully typed in the number as Blaine repeated it for her, unwilling to admit that she'd still kept his business card at the bottom of her jewelry box despite having tried to purge most of the reminders of him from her life. _Yet here I am_ , Peyton thought, staring into Blaine's startling blue eyes. _Opening a new connection to him and far too thrilled by the prospect of falling into a secret life of crime together_.

When she finished, they said goodbye with the awkwardness and reluctance of young lovers afraid of discovery yet searching for any excuse to linger just a moment longer. Blaine waited and watched while she returned to her car, parked at the corner of the street, and before getting in she looked back at him standing at the mouth of the alley and staring after her with longing eyes.

She remembered the days before she met Blaine, when she used to look down on people who enjoyed the thrill of dangers like skydiving. Yet here she was... helping to illegally smuggle people into the city to become zombies, stealing a fortune from a crime lord, and colluding with Blaine to circumvent the feeding system that was designed to prevent unregistered zombies. She could remind herself it was for a noble cause all she wanted. It didn't change the sparks she felt all along her skin as she looked back at Blaine or how much she was enjoying the prospect of an adrenaline soaked walk on the wild side with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few things that have been sitting on my hard drive for months that I wanted to post. This is something I was playing with around the end of last season while exploring plotlines and character beats that the show had frustratingly dropped. Peyton going from deeply troubled by the starving bus driver to recklessly making new zombies came across as a bizarre and flighty character shift to me. Then the money theft opened up a conflict that had zero payoff. It also irked the hell out of me that she never got to give a meaningful reaction to seeing Angus as Brother Love. So this is me taking a peek into an alternate path for what could have been with some of the potential plots that intrigued me the most.


End file.
